


Ghosts of Christmas Past

by Samari1



Series: Winter Holiday 2020 [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Has Issues, Clint Barton Has PTSD, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Loves Coffee, Clint does not like the holiday season, Deaf Clint Barton, Die Hard is a christmas movie!, First Kiss, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Injured Clint, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Canon Compliant, it wasn't his fault this time, no really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samari1/pseuds/Samari1
Summary: Clint is not happy when Tony and Steve collude to make the holidays a Very Big Deal. Luckily Nat has his back. James too. He hates the holidays! But, maybe this year will prove that holidays aren't so bad after all.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Winter Holiday 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066625
Kudos: 51





	Ghosts of Christmas Past

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to challenge myself to write and post a fic a day from Yule to Christmas. All are unrelated, but with winter and/or holiday season themes.

Clint nearly fell over. Only years upon years of control stopped that embarrassment from happening.  _ Fuck. Just fuck. _

Steve just kept talking as if he hadn’t ruined  _ everything.  _ “Hill was happy to do it. She understood what Tony and I were going for. We’re a family and family should spend the holidays together.”

Trying to get his thoughts in order, Clint ignored everything and everyone. “I always take holiday duties. Always. No spouse or kids and that means someone with those things gets to be with their family.”

Steve waved him off and Tony was already muttering about turkey and trees and gifts and fuck all. Clint wished Nat was here, she would have found a way to shut this shit down. People listened to her. Okay they feared her. But, same outcome. Clint just got ignored. He should be used to it by now when they weren’t engaged in battle. 

Miserable, he drank his coffee and tuned out the conversation. Maybe he could catch a mission from Hill and just … not come back until after the stupid fucking holidays were over? The idea had merit. But, it would mean getting Nat to agree. She wouldn’t do any better than him at dealing with this bullshit. 

He slipped out during some sort of argument over dressing with oysters or not. Which didn't make a lick of sense, but whatever. He had plans to make.

—**—

Clint hobbled into the communal kitchen, his expression matching his mood. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” 

He didn’t look at Barnes in favor of heading straight for the fucking coffee. Everyone was on his shit list except Nat. Every - fucking - one, deserving of it or not. The one time he’d been extra careful as not to need the medics, the dumbass drug smuggler had decided to recreate a shitty action movie and blow up a market in an attempt to get away. So, of fucking course, he’d had to scramble to save civilians and ended up with a broken ankle, four broken ribs, and three months of strictly enforced med leave. 

“Leave it,” Nat suggested as swept past him and had his coffee waiting by the time he’d made it across the room. 

Steve looked up from a sketch pad, worried and yet cheerful. “You can help with holiday preparations, Clint!”

Nat, recognizing the warning signs, hustled him back towards the elevator. “Let’s get you settled in and medicated. You know they said to rest and relax.”

Clint shot Steve a smug look. Resting and relaxing did  _ not _ include holiday preparations with Tony Stark. Did not. Hmf. He’d thank Nat once they were in his apartment.

—**—

Nat swung the door open and sighed. “Really?”

Clint looked over from his lazy sprawl on the couch, leg propped up and elevated like a good boy. Then he groaned. Steve was at the door with some sort of StarkTech wheelchair. “Fuck that noise.”

Steve’s smile widened. “Your leg will be elevated and you can rest! Isn’t it great!”

Clint saw Barnes behind Steve, wincing and glaring at Steve’s back. Huh. Unexpected, but he’d take any allies he could get. “Leave Clint alone, Stevie.”

Now Steve looked crestfallen. “I was trying to help?”

Clint maneuvered himself up and towards the door. Sweet fuck all. He would have to do this. The resulting nightmares and anxiety were going to be so much fucking fun. “I’m not an invalid.”

Nat stuck close, which helped immensely. Clint played it well. Smiling and joking and laughing. Only Nat knew how fake it all was. When it was finally time to actually eat, fuck if Tony didn’t bring over a plate to him. It took all Clint’s acting skills not to run screaming. Everything was piled together and he didn’t even  _ like  _ turkey. The smell of it alone brought back memories he wished he could forget.  _ (“Can’t you do anything right?!” Slap! Bang! Sobbing! Incoherent begging…) _

Nat sat back down, swapping the plate she’d made for the monstrosity in front of him. Mashed potatoes, asparagus, cornbread casserole, and a roll - and it was all fucking separate and not touching and congealed together. He signed ‘thank you’ under the table but where she’d see it. Nat just kissed his cheek and turned just enough to block most of the smells from her plate. 

He excused himself before dessert. Pumpkin pie would have had him vomiting up what he’d managed to eat. Being injured and in ‘need’ of pain medication had its perks. Not that he actually took the meds. Not with the family history he had. Nope. Not risking that shit. 

Clint didn’t miss Barnes’ speculative look, but ignored it like he did anything he didn’t want to or have the capacity to deal with. Beyond the anxiety, his head was throbbing from all the noise. He needed to be away and take his aids out. 

The next three days were as shitty as he’d expected them to be. Fucking holidays fucking sucked.

—**—

The range was nice and quiet. Blissfully so. Sitting on the table he’d hauled over, Clint amused himself by making shapes on the targets. He’d finished up the second (an eight pointed star) and moved on to a spiral on the next target when the lights flashed purple letting him know someone was entering the room. He had three arrows nocked.

“You don’t like holidays.”

Fuck. He should have turned his aids off. Fuck. Too late for it now. He looked over his shoulder to find Barnes standing there, looking apprehensive. Letting loose the arrows, Clint shrugged. “So what?”

Barnes was temporarily distracted as the arrows hit. Shaking his head, the other man looked impressed. “That never gets less impressive, just sayin’.”

Clint rubbed the back of his neck, hating the flush he could feel there. “It’s what I do. What do you want?”

“Look. This conversation isn’t happening. JARVIS promised that much.”

Deciding the bots knew well enough to handle his arrows with care by now, Clint slid off the table, bow in hand and started for the door. “Excellent. I’ll just go then.”

Barnes sighed. “They have meds for anxiety.”

Clint nearly gave in to the urge to nock an arrow and plant it somewhere really painful, even for a super soldier. Nearly. Huh. He’d have to tell Nat. She’d be proud of his restraint. “Fuck off.”

“No one would know. Those new medical laws keep even Stevie from snooping into my records. Fury too.”

Clint nearly snapped right then and there. “I don’t -” He forced himself to stop and do those breathing exercises Nat had taught him. Then he tried again. “Good to know. Won’t keep Stark out.”

He walked out, not allowing himself to break down until he was in his apartment with the security set so that no one but Nat could get in. He hated his anxiety. Fucking hated it. But, he had decent coping mechanisms. Necessity was the mother of invention or however that saying went. 

—**—

Clint took one step into the communal area and then backed right the fuck up. No. Nope. Not a fucking chance. Green tree, gold crap all over it, and blue fucking lights flashing in what he presumed was supposed to be some sort of cheerful way. 

“JAR-” was all he managed, slamming into the back wall of the elevator. 

The AI was a rockstar, closing the doors and taking him back to his floor. 

“I took the liberty of calling Agent Romanov.”

Clint could only nod, stumbling off the elevator and through the door that JARVIS got open for him. Not one bit of gold, or green, or fucks sake, blue in his place. Not one fucking drop. He made it as far as the counter and all but collapsed. No. No. No. just fucking no. 

_ (You have heart. _

_ I need an eye.  _

_ Tell me about SHIELD. _

_ Order. Yes, perfect order. Isn’t it magnificent. _

_ You stupid bastard! Can’t you do anything right? _

_ Oh, Clint. Your arm is okay, it’s not broken this time, shhhh.) _

Nat arrived and simply sat with him, holding him and not saying anything until he was calm again. She was up and back in moments, handing him a glass of water and a handful of hard candies. 

He was blurry, fuzzy, out of sync. It was okay. Nat was here. She would keep him safe. 

—**—

“She tore it all to hell and back.”

Clint ignored the other man, pretending his aids were off, and continued to look out at New York City at dawn and covered in snow. A travel cup of coffee was held in front of his face. Clint took it.

“It was spectacular actually. Stark squawked. Steve kept asking what was wrong. Sam, Bruce, and I helped her.”

Clint slipped his coffee and continued to ignore the pest known as Bucky Barnes. The man sat down, about two feet away, leaning on the railing just like Clint was. His tone was conversational, as if they were talking about the weather or some other random bullshit.

“I translated, being the helpful sort, when she started ranting in Russian. I learned a few new words and phrases actually.”

Clint nearly snickered at that. 

“I’d list them off, but I’d bet you learnt them years ago. Rhodey got a new tree and decorations delivered. He made Steve and Tony put it all up. He also made them clean the mess we made. Sam made the rest of us popcorn so we could truly enjoy Tony Stark with a broom, sweeping up tiny little slivers of Christmas lights. I think JARVIS sent pictures to everyone’s emails.”

Clint's lips twitched. This was the first time he’d been out of his apartment since his lovely anxiety attack two days ago. His first stop had been the range yesterday evening and he’d only left about an hour ago. Leave it to Nat to use the time to demolish something. 

“The menu for the next stupid holiday is ham, mashed potatoes, cornbread casserole -” Barnes paused, snickering. “I thanked her for that last one, by the way. I’d never had it before I don’t think. It was really good though. Anyway, she has the full list.”

Clint contemplated saying something. Anything. But, Barnes got to his feet.

“She said something to the effect of them getting their heads out of their asses or the two of you would be spending the rest of the month somewhere with sun and sand. I’d not mind tagging along, just putting that out there. She finished it off by doing something that has some song about building a snowman playing on an endless loop over the speakers. Stark can’t shut it down and JARVIS refuses to. Just so ya have some warning.”

Clint waited until Barnes was back inside to burst out laughing. Then, he proceeded to make an army of snowmen on the roof. Nat showed up about halfway through and helped. The squirt bottles of colored water helped immensely with their decorating. 

They took a break for more supplies, food, and to warm up before heading back out. JARVIS had been almost amused at the requests, but had them delivered by bots anyway. 

“So, did you and JARVIS collude so that no tv shows anything except  _ Frozen _ too?”

Nat smirked. “Would I do that? You know how it drives Tony crazy.”

“Oh dear god.”

Clint, grinning widely, turned to see Sam shaking his head and snickering. “Wanna help?”

Sam laughed outright. “Dibs on Gingy.”

“Not the gumdrop buttons,” Nat said, straight faced, but in an admirable mimic of the character.

Sam laughed harder, going for supplies from their massive pile of goodies.

When they were done, the roof was somewhere between a cute winter scene and some twisted hellscape of a battle between various winter themed things and snow versions of the Avengers. Clint was rather proud of the peppermint stick and ribbon bow on his snowman. He’d not known peppermint sticks came giant sized, but damn it now he wanted one to actually eat. 

“You have to be frozen solid! You’ve been out here all day.”

Clint’s eyebrow shot up. “Aww, Barnes, no. We’re fine.”

Barnes finally got a good look at their creations. He burst out laughing and leant on the railing. “Is that …” he sputtered, “Steve taking on a gingerbread man with a broken leg?”

Clint made a hands on his cheeks shocked face like the kid in  _ Home Alone. _ “You don’t know Gingy, Barnes? Blasphemy! Nat! That’s blasphemy right?”

She shook her head. “Not if he knows who Jack and Sally are. Or the Snow Miser and Heat Miser. Hmm. On second thought, Barnes, you need an education. One hour, my floor. Pajamas and a blanket are mandatory. You too, Sam. We'll have pizza.”

Sam rolled his eyes, finishing up a fair imitation of Redwing shooting Bumble with gumdrops. “ _ Shrek  _ is in no way a holiday movie.”

“No, but  _ Die Hard _ is,” Clint said smugly. “It’s on our non-traditional movies list this year.”

“Cartoons and classics tonight. Tomorrow we can discuss your delusions about  _ Did Hard  _ and all its sequels being holiday movies before making that list.”

He pouted. “Aww, Nat, no. They take place at Christmas, so they count! Sam, help me out here.”

“Clint’s right.” Sam ducked behind Clint as if hiding from Nat’s wrath. 

Barnes looked wary, but was too busy trying to puzzle out what his own snowperson was fighting. 

Clint was rather proud of that one. The Barnes snowperson was shooting gold candies and Pitch was half black and half yellow/gold. “Pitch Black from  _ Rise of the Guardians _ . He wants to spread darkness and fear. The guardians… ya know what. Nope. You get to watch spoiler free.”

Barnes gave him a speculative look, but didn’t say anything more as he carefully picked through their scene, smiling all the while. “Dare I ask what your snow version is fighting?”

“The Mouse King.” Barnes just lifted a brow. Clint sighed. “The bad guy in  _ The Nutcracker  _ ballet.”

Sam nearly tripped, clearly shocked. “You’ve seen a ballet?”

Clint shrugged, tossing out the first excuse that came to mind. “Nat made me. I’m going to go in and warm up. Hand over some of the supplies, Nat. I’ll carry them in.”

He would ignore the hurt and enjoy cartoons damn it. Sam wasn’t going to ruin the one thing he liked about this time of year.

—**—

“My television is still showing  _ Frozen _ ,” Barnes announced grumpily.

Clint waved him into Nat’s apartment. “Tell Nat, not me.”

“That song is stuck in my head too.”

Clint closed the door, snickering. “ _ Let it go  _ or  _ Do you want to build a snowman _ ?”

“Both.”

Clint grinned. “Aww, it could be worse.”

“Ho-” Barnes rolled his eyes. “No, forget it. I am  _ not _ asking how.”

“You’re ruining his fun,” Sam called from the couch. 

Nat was pouring popcorn into a bowl and already had a stack of pizzas delivered and set out on her counter. “You did it to yourself, James. Don’t come crying to me when Clint is all over that challenge you just handed him.” 

Barnes sputtered. “What?”

Clint turned to grab his candy and a plate. His jaw dropped. “Nat! Where did you put that peppermint stick? It was right there on the counter two minutes ago.”

She eyed him. “No, Clint.”

“Aww, Nat, no. Gimme.”

“Aww, poor baby. No. I refuse to have you literally climbing my walls because you ate your weight in sugar.”

Pouting, but knowing he’d already lost the argument, Clint made himself a plate and then side-eyed her. Hmf. For that, he’d be taking the most comfortable chair like thing in the room. Before she could tell him not to, he’d hauled himself into the chair she’d suspended from the ceiling above the couch. One handed and without spilling his plate. “Toss up my blanket, Sam.”

Sam tipped his head back and sighed. “Why do I get the feeling no matter what I do, I’m in trouble.”

Barnes stomped over, grabbed the purple blanket and tossed it up. He didn’t say a word, just went back to making his plate of food. Clint smirked. 

Nat rolled her eyes. “You forgot your coffee.”

Clint pouted and eyed Sam again. “Come on, Sam.”

Barnes just sighed. “Use my first name and I’ll bring you your damn coffee.”

Eh. Not a biggie. “All right, but do you prefer Bucky or James? Wouldn’t want to miss out on my coffee ‘cause I used the wrong one.”

“You are a smartass. Pick one, I don’t give a fuck.”

“Swear Jar!” Sam teased. “Come on, man, you have to tell us … he cusses doesn’t he?”

“Thank you for getting my coffee for me, James.” Clint smirked, having used the most polite tone in his arsenal. 

“He does.” James smirked, crossing the room and holding up a travel cup. “He is a shit and thinks it’s funny to collect money from you all for it.”

Clint reached down and took it. “Yay! What do I gotta do to get you to refill it too?”

James shot him a look, but was sitting on the couch before Clint could process it. Ugh. Steve wasn’t the only one being a shit. Hmf.

—**—

Clint stumbled to the door, yanking it open. Whoever kept buzzing the doorbell thing whatever it was and making his bed shake to alert him to said buzzing needed to go away. Now. “What?!”

James held out a cup of coffee, making no secret of checking that he had his aids on before speaking. “It’s nearly noon. Have coffee. I’ll wait.”

Grabbing the coffee, Clint kicked the door closed, only to have James stick his foot in so it stayed open. “Ugh. Fine. In.”

“You are not a morning person. Natalia did not exaggerate  _ at all _ .” 

James made his way over to the coffee pot. Yay!

Clint slumped down on his couch. “Aww, morning, no.”

The entire pot was brought over and set on the coffee table a few minutes later. “Drink up. Then you’re going shopping with me. I know ASL too, so you don’t have to deal with the crowd noise.”

Clint did not remember agreeing to that. But, coffee. James seemed to get it and simply sat and waited until the entire pot was empty. “I didn’t.”

“Another pot then?”

Clint nodded fervently. He wasn’t coherent before two full pots of coffee and not generally pleasant before three. James just grinned a grin that made Clint all sorts of interested (it was a bad habit he should probably stop) when he brought the pot back over. It was tempting to drink straight from the pot. So he did. He checked that it was cooled enough first, duh. 

“If you say you need a third pot of coffee…”

Reasonably certain he wouldn’t trip over his own feet, Clint hauled himself up and into the kitchen. He shoved the pot in place and punched the buttons he’d marked with purple glittery stickers for when he was still mostly asleep. (It worked, no matter how silly it looked!) Yay for technology. The machine ground more beans and refilled the water. He leant on the counter and eyed the man sprawled on his couch. James was staring. Clint wasn’t awake yet to know what sort of stare it was really. It looked half appalled and half amused, but eh. More coffee first. 

“I’m impressed. Slightly concerned, but impressed.”

Clint shrugged and took the pot when the machine flashed at him. He set it on the counter and waited. When the exact four minutes had passed that he knew it took to cool enough, he picked it back up and wandered off towards his bedroom. Apparently they were shopping. 

—**—

_ Gifts. Help. _

Clint, bundled up because it was fucking cold outside, smirked as they stepped out of the elevator and into the atrium on the ground floor. He pulled on a purple hat and gloves before replying. He was actually more comfortable with the man after he joined in all the traditions Nat and Clint had formed over the years: non traditional holiday movie day, cookie baking and decorating day, dressing up to go see  _ The Nutcracker  _ and so on over the last few weeks.  _ For who? _

_ Everyone. Damn it. Have to. _

_ I did not get that memo. _

James shrugged.  _ You pick, I pay. Deal? _

_ Coffee? _

Clint had to lean on the wall, he was laughing too hard at James’ look of horror. 

_ Are you serious? _

Clint nodded fervently. It was too fucking cold out to not have more coffee. Plus, if he had to pick out gifts and deal with people, he deserved it.  _ No coffee, no help. _

_ You are a menace.  _

Clint shrugged.  _ I am proud of that. We going or not? _

James shoved him towards the doors. There was a car waiting to take them. The driver smiled. “Where to?”

_ The Shops at Columbus Circle.  _

James shrugged and repeated it to the driver. They got stuck in traffic, because of course they did. James turned in his seat.  _ Why there? _

_ Chocolate shop. La Maison du Chocolat. For Nat. Moleskine for Steve and maybe Tony and Rhodey. Bookshop for Bruce. Or a comfortable cardigan. _

_ Sam? You? _

_ Will figure Sam out when we get there. _

James huffed.  _ You? _

_ Coffee. I’m not fancy.  _

James looked like he wanted to say something, but sighed instead. The rest of the trip was nice. Silent and no conversation, but nice. Clint poked James to get his attention as the driver pulled up to the building.  _ Nat gift last. Chocolate will get melty and gross if not. JARVIS will keep it cool for the next week. Why did you wait this late to shop? _

_ Have you shopped yet? _

Clint was glad he was bundled up so much or else James would see him blush. He hated the holidays. Usually he got people shit he could order online and have it arrive already wrapped. He was also usually gone, so that had been his excuse. This year he’d just kept putting it off. Okay, putting it off for most everybody. He’d finished shopping for Nat and James yesterday actually.  _ Not usually here for it. _

_ Didn’t answer my question. _

_ I’m glad we get paid really well as Avengers _ , he signed instead of answering the question. 

_ We are to call for the driver when we’re done.  _

Clint stripped off his hat and gloves, shoving them in his coat. The coat he dropped on the seat when he saw them pull right up to some sort of valet entrance. It would be too hot to wear them inside the shops. He glanced down at his hooded purple sweater (that he only had because Nat bought it), jeans (no holes), and purple converse. The shop workers were likely to ignore him dressed like this anyway. Other than the chocolate place. They all knew him there. 

James did the same and he was dressed similarly, but Clint still felt like the poor cousin from bumfuck next to James. He shrugged it off and got out of the car, heading inside before the cold could sink in too bad. 

He could do this. He had to.

—**—

Clint handed the bags over to the driver and climbed in, slumping down on the seat. Never fucking again. Okay, so it hadn’t been as bad as he thought it would be. James was hilarious actually. That had helped his anxiety. Except that damn coffee shop smelling like pumpkin spice crap. It should have been damn peppermint or what the fuck ever was the seasonal pick this year. 

At least they’d not tried the coffee shop until after getting Nat’s chocolate. 

He was still shaky, though it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. There had been a long line, so he’d begged off, ignoring the speculative look James had given him. Then he’d pointed out he had plenty of coffee in his apartment. James hadn’t argued further. 

James settled in and waited until they were away from the shops to side eye him.  _ Okay? _

Clint turned his head to stare out the window. 

James didn’t try again. They went to Clint’s apartment so they could get coffee. 

JARVIS, bless the AI, had sent bots after the gifts. Clint had handed over the two boxes for Nat separately so JARVIS could do whatever magical thing to keep them from getting gross between now and gift giving day. 

He flipped his aids back on out of habit. 

“I appreciate the help.”

Clint shrugged, starting the coffee after washing the pot. “Still need stuff for Tony and Rhodey. Online will work, we can use the Tower account for expedited delivery and pay Maria for whatever you bought, she’ll make sure it gets to you.”

“Was it the pumpkin smell? I noticed you didn’t like the candle and whatever place either.”

Clint glared. It wasn’t James’ or Nat’s murder glares but it was pretty fucking close. “What do you want? You never said and it’d be shitty to leave you out of my gift giving.”

“I don’t care. I’m not used to gifts, so anything is nice.” James sighed. “I won’t say anything, ya know. I get it.”

“If you get it, why are we talking about it?!” 

Nat chose that moment to waltz out of his bedroom, smirking and with his purple backpack and go bag in her hands. “If you two are going to fight, I’ll leave you both here.” She lifted a brow. “Well, James? I took the liberty of packing for you.”

Clint just opened the cabinet and grabbed his purple oversized travel mug that was glittery and held a whole pot of coffee. He didn’t give a fuck what Nat had planned or where they were going. He was just glad they were going.

James eyed him but turned his attention to Nat. “Did you hijack one of Stark’s planes?”

“I set Maria on Pepper.”

Clint snickered. “Did you get pictures?”

“You are a menace,” James said with a halfhearted glare.

Clint was busy pouring his coffee, so he ignored that. 

Nat didn't. “He takes that as a compliment, James. Now, are you two done fighting? I will knock you both out if I have to.”

Clint shrugged. It hadn’t been him that started it this time. “Does JARVIS know? We got you gifts.”

She smiled. “I know, they are with my bags and James’ in the car and ready to go. James, are you sure you want to go?”

“Hell yes. I was nearly crawling out of my skin during that stupid dinner. I can only imagine how much more over the top this next one will be.”

She sidled up to Clint, squeezing his arm lightly. “I even have the meals planned already.”

Clint kissed the top of her head. “You are the best best friend in the history of best friends.”

“I know.”

—**—

Clint was laid out under a huge umbrella and relaxing completely. It was glorious. No snow, no stupid holiday jingles or decorations. No one other than the chef and the three of them on the whole damn island. “Does Stark know we invaded his island paradise?”

Nat looked up from her book, smiling smugly. “Pepper cleared it so he can’t say a damn word about it.”

“If he does, I volunteer to punch him,” James interjected, from his lazy sprawl on a blanket under his own umbrella. “In the face.”

“Nat, if they call, you are answering, right?”

She smirked. “Aww, gifts, yay!”

Clint laughed so hard he cried. Leave it to her to mimic him that way. “Can’t we just stay?”

She made a “hmmm” sort of noise. “Only until the 2nd. Can’t take too long or we won’t get away with this again.” She stood, tucking her book under her arm. “You two behave. I’m going to finish your shopping for you both.”

“Yes, Nat. Thank you.”

“Of course.” She smirked, ruffling his hair. 

“Much appreciated,” James almost mumbled, clearly more asleep than awake. 

In his defense, he’d been lulled into complacency. That was why Clint was so damn startled about an hour later when the easy silence was broken. 

“You seem more relaxed now. Even more than you did an hour ago.”

“You too.” Deflection worked usually, he could only hope it worked now. Clint really, really didn’t want to get into it. 

A small box landed on the chair next to his leg. Clint just stared in shock at it. 

“Well, open it. Saw it and thought of you.”

Clint fumbled the plain brown box and finally opened it only to have a purple, glittery fidget cube fall into his lap. He grinned. The box was dropped, utterly forgotten. He’d been meaning to get himself one of those and try it out, but never remembered to order one. He couldn’t resist playing with it. 

“Each side is a different thing. Click, glide, spin, roll, breathe, and flip.” James moved to settle on Nat’s chair, grinning, but also Clint swore he was blushing. “This mean ya like it?”

“I  _ love _ it. Gonna lose it in like five minutes, but it’s perfect,” Clint said fervently, if absently, as he tried all the different sides again. He was already mentally assigning which side would help with which stressors. “This makes the really soft, oversized hoodie -.” He stopped. Then he blushed. He’d been so wrapped up in the sheer thoughtfulness of the gift that he’d not thought before he spoke. “Awww, ruined surprise, no.”

James reached over and lightly squeezed his arm. “I don’t mind at all. Hell, knowing what’s in the presents will help my anxiety and I’ll at least not panic about it being a bomb.”

Clint didn’t know if he should laugh or hug the other man. So, he smiled brightly. “Nah, the glitter bomb gift was for  _ Sam.  _ I wouldn’t do that to you.”

They both giggled maniacally at the thought of Sam’s reaction tomorrow morning. They were still snickering when Nat came down and dragged them back up to the house. “Presents now. Dinner after. No need to wait until tomorrow.”

Clint kissed the top of her head. He knew her tricks and adored her for it. She was skipping actual Christmas Day for all the reasons and yet keeping silent on those reasons. “You are the best best friend ever.”

She grinned, shoving a purple wrapped box in his hands. “Open. From James.”

He didn’t bother sitting down, but ripped the paper (only after lightly shaking it and hearing it rattle) and laughing when he uncovered a large, clear plastic container with what had to be at least a hundred different purple fidget cubes in it.

The other man dropped onto the sofa, grinning. “Figured you’d need spares.”

Nat dropped a bright blue wrapped box in James’ lap. “From Clint.”

James’ smile could have lit a dark room when he opened it to reveal a stack of hoodies. Okay. So, Clint may have gone overboard. He’d not missed how often James wore soft things or curled up under soft blankets. He watched, nervous and not sure why the hell he was nervous, as James pulled out each hoodie one by one, his grin almost impossibly wide. The first few were Avengers hoodies - even a Winter Soldier one Clint had briefly considered keeping for himself. Below those was a rainbow of plain hoodies. James side eyed him, smirking at the white one that had cat ears and the cuffs flipped to look like paws. “Thank you.”

He sounded so sincere and Clint blushed. “So I did okay?”

Nat pushed another box at Clint, this one huge, shoving him over to sit with James. “Yes, yes, now I want to see your reaction one. It’s also from James.”

Clint glanced over to see James looking as nervous as Clint was. Awww, feelings, maybe? Inside the box was a stack of t-shirts. Clint nearly fell over. He held up the first one which said:  _ Now I have a machine gun _ .  _ Ho - ho - ho _ . Utterly delighted, he went for the next. This one said:  _ Die Hard IS a Christmas movie!  _ The third had a picture of Nakatomi Plaza and said:  _ Christmas party 1988 _ . The last in the stack was a sweatshirt, one that looked like it had been cross stitched.  _ Yippee - Ki - Yay  _ and  _ Die Hard  _ surrounding a silhouette of Bruce Willis’ character in a Santa hat. “These are perfect!”

James shoulder bumped him lightly. “Keep lookin’.”

There was a layer of purple glittery tissue paper and under it was not just what had to be the softest purple blanket Clint had ever touched, but also a - he blinked, holding it up. The design looked like it had been hand painted on. “Where did you find a Jack Frost hoodie?”

Nat scrunched up her nose. “I might be insulted. James asked where to get one and I found it. Do you like it?”

Before he could think about it being a bad idea, Clint leaned over and kissed James’s cheek. James responded by tugging Clint closer and kissing the hell out of him. Dazed, Clint sat back. “Merry Christmas to me.”

Clint ignored Nat’s exclamation, “Finally,” and leaned in for another kiss. 

Hmm, with gifts like these, maybe the holidays weren’t so bad after all. 


End file.
